


Particular Physics

by arsons



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsons/pseuds/arsons
Summary: “You’ve been too quiet this whole damn time,” Momota says. “Are you planning something?”Kokichi frowns. “I’m planning,” he stresses, “to get you to explain particle physics to me.”





	Particular Physics

Hating Momota is easy.

Hating Momota is easy because he’s _so_ super dumb as hell, Kokichi thinks. For one, he wears slippers to school. No other well-adjusted human being does that, unless they’re on meth, and then that makes them _not_ well-adjusted, so it goes and cancels out. For another reason, Kokichi once watched Momota yell, “Shuuichi, check this one!” and slide about a foot down the staircase railing before flipping backwards and slamming his head off the floor, dignity and all.

He once asked Kokichi who the main character of Hamlet was.

He also once used the word _parsec_ in a sentence, as if Kokichi were supposed to know what the fuck that meant. Parsec and torque and astronomical unit, like he weren’t making those those things up. Ugh.

It’s like he got one completely random melting pot of genes, or something. Like his DNA slapped a bunch of miscellaneous shit together and called it a person. He’s lucky it didn’t become dangerous; Momota, thankfully, is more of a cheese-on-cereal type of combination than a lithium-in-water one. Kokichi knows lithium in water is dangerous because Momota had said so once, then looked at him like he was he stupid when he questioned the validity of that.

Hating Momota really _is_ easy.

Hating Momota would be even easier if his face didn’t look like...that, when he studies.

On the other side of the table, Momota is holding a book that says some shit about particle physics on the front. Right, okay, that’s not inherently bad, but the issue is that he’s actually _reading_ it, for some reason; Kokichi assumes it is studying if only for not wanting to believe that anybody, let alone _Momota_ , would spend their free time reading about any sort of topic like _that_. Why read math books when cringe compilations are free? Honestly.

Though, it might explain some stuff about what went wrong in his head. Kokichi rolls his eyes; he settles his chin back against his palm to absorb the view.

Momota keeps biting the corner of his lip, but beside that one, small thing, the rest of his expression is fully focused and concentrated. As if, by chance, he is actually _enthralled_ by the nature of particle physics. As if he gives _a shit_ about particles, or physics, or both. Like particle physics is the most interesting and entertaining thing in the entire world, instead of—wow!—the boy sitting across from him, watching him read. He’s making the wrong choice.

He’s also making a really...uh, face. He’s really making a face. Huh. How about that. He has a face: that’s right. That’s how Kokichi feels about it.

”You look reaaally, really ugly when you care about space,” Kokichi says anyway.

Momota blinks up at him.

”Like, for real. Your brow gets all creased, and—“

”Swear to God,” Momota interrupts, “I’ll move to another fuckin’ table. Again.”

Kokichi pouts. When he’d first arrived in the courtyard, Momota had been the only one present, sitting alone at a table in the corner. Kokichi had settled across from him, and Momota had looked up, collected his things, and moved to another table. The bastard. Kokichi followed him to two more before he finally gave up on his little escape attempt.

“Sure, sure, you can take that route,” Kokichi concedes. He shrugs. “Too bad I took your bag when you weren’t looking.”

Momota startles, and when he turns to find his bag right behind him where he left it, Kokichi zips in to pull his book from his hand.

”Yoink!” he says. Momota snaps around instantly. “I’ll be taking—“

”H-Hey!” Momota splutters. “Fucker!” He lunges after him in an attempt to grab it. “Give it back! The hell are you—?”

Kokichi gets his thumb on the page Momota had open and catches about two words explaining _quarks_ before Momota tears the book away from him, hitting Kokichi’s elbow off the table in the process.

Kokichi rubs at it. He huffs.

”Could’ve said please.”

”Could’ve not taken my fucking book!” Momota retaliates. He looks a bit red with anger, and his hair mussed a little from their short scuffle. Kokichi swallows.

Momota swings his book back open slightly too aggressively. They both ignore the sound of pages tearing when he flicks through them to return to his previous spot.

”So,” Kokichi says.

Momota groans.

”What are quarks?”

”Dude, you don’t care.”

Kokichi gasps dramatically and throws a hand over his mouth. “Wow—of  _course_ I care! Hey, how dare you, Momota-chan! I _love_ quarks and particles! Why would you ever imply that I—“

”Yeah, yeah, cut the shit,” Momota says. He looks back up at Kokichi, annoyed. “I don’t even know why the hell you’re here, alright? You’ve been too quiet this whole damn time. Are you planning something?”

Kokichi frowns. “I’m _planning_ ,” he stresses, “to get you to explain particle physics to me.”

Momota sighs.

”Oh, come ooon!” Kokichi protests. “You’re really just gonna skip by the opportunity to preach space talk, huh? And they say teaching is the best way to practice and study and _everything!_ ”

Momota finally relents. Kokichi watches it happen; he visibly exhales as if releasing the tension from his body.

”Alright,” he says. “Fine. Fuck. What do you want to know?”

Kokichi folds his hands under his chin. “Which quark do you think best fits my personality type?”

Momota starts. “Th-That’s not a real fucking question! Fuckin’ hell, dude—”

”Hey, it’s totally a real question!” Kokichi counters. “So, come on—tell me about the quarks! And tell me which one you think I act most like, while you’re at it!”

Momota presses a hand to his forehead. “This is so fucking stupid,” he says. “Oh, my God. Ouma. Quarks don’t have personality types; they’re not goddamn sentient.”

Kokichi blinks at him.

Momota shakes his head. “Alright, listen up. There’s six types of quarks, okay? Up, down, strange, charm, top, and bottom. They all serve different purposes in—“

”Okay, cool, there’s six of them!” Kokichi interrupts with a clap of his hands. “Now, which one am I most like?”

Momota kicks him under the table.

Kokichi recoils his leg. “Ow!” he says, then kicks him back. They spend too many seconds wresting with each other before finally breaking apart.

Momota glares at him. “Strange,” he decides. “You’re definitely the fuckin’ strange quark.”

Kokichi rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m at least glad you didn’t take the easy way out and say, like, you-know-what.”

Apparently, this joke is lost on Momota, who manages to look genuinely confused at his words. Kokichi blinks back at Momota when he doesn’t say anything.

”Harukawa-chan would’ve said it,” Kokichi presses. “You know—the ‘b’ one?”

Momota only raises an eyebrow.

”...Okay, so, more questions,” Kokichi eventually continues, flat. His voice perks back up. “Ooh—if I were a moon, what moon would I be?”

”Oh, hell.”

”Whaaat! Sometimes a boy wants to learn about certain astral alignments, you know?”

Momota kicks him again.

”Owww! Momota-chan! Are you trying to break my bones, or—“

Momota finally sets his book down on the table and shakes his head. “This isn’t even about physics, dude,” he sighs. “You’re just asking me to entertain you.”

Kokichi balks at the accusation. “What makes you think that?” he says. Like, Momota is completely correct, but Kokichi will be damned if he lets him know it. “I’m just curious about space, really. I wish Momota-chan would talk more about his profession!”

Momota looks at him for a second, as if contemplating a response. Then he says, “Deimos.”

”Huh?”

”The moon Deimos,” Momota clarifies. “Y’know—from Mars. That’s what you remind me of.”

Kokichi raises an eyebrow. “Hmm?” he hums. “Any particular reason for _that_ choice?”

Momota shrugs. “It’s, uh, kinda wonky.” He glances down at Kokichi. “Plus, its name is Greek for _dread_.”

Kokichi frowns.

”A planet,” he fires off. “What planet do I remind you of?”

”Pluto,” Momota answers. “Cause it’s so small, and cold, and technically not even an actual fuckin’ planet.”

”Okay, well, I’ll pretend not to be cheated by that one. Star?”

”Betelgeuse. Cause it’s gonna explode pretty soon.”

Kokichi’s frown intensifies. “Any celestial body in general?”

Momota thinks about that one for a moment. Then he supplies, “An open star cluster.”

Kokichi is amused. “Oh,” he grins, “because I’m _such_ a star that not even one single one will do for me? I need a whole bunch?”

”No,” Momota says. “Cause everything that makes you _you_ is wound so loosely fuckin’ together that it’ll inevitably all spiral away some day and fall apart.”

Kokichi is no longer amused. He’s being called a mess by this cheese-on-cereal type of guy. He aims to kick at him again, but Momota manages to dodge that one from under the table.

“If I’m, like, an open one,” Kokichi says, “then you’re totally a closed one. Maybe you’re not falling apart, but you’re still just an assortment of _things_ mashed together.”

Momota scoffs. “Sure, jackass,” he says. “And they’re called globular, by the way.”

”Ooh, wow, huh? My bad, space nerd.”

Momota tries to kick him. Kokichi dodges as well.

Just as Momota starts to reopen his book, Kokichi glances to the side and lets out a harsh sigh. The courtyard is still empty, save for them, despite the nice weather. He looks back to Momota, ready to be angry, but he’s—making that face again. The study-face. The one where he...has features, and bones, and skin, or whatever. Like any other person. But, uh. But...different, maybe.

Kokichi clears his throat. ”Y-You know,” he starts, and Momota’s grip tightens on the binding. “You answered those questions preeetty quickly, Momota-chan. Sounds like you had your answers already prepared, or something.”

Momota rolls his eyes from behind his quark manual. “Right, yeah, of fucking course,” he bites out. He squints at Kokichi. “And so what if I did?”

Kokichi leans forward on his elbow. “Maybe...you spent time wondering about me.”

Momota snorts, hard. “No, you’re right,” he says, the same sarcastic tone still tinging his voice.

”Maybe you just caaan’t stop thinking about me!”

”Maybe I can’t!” Momota counters, now getting angry.

” _Maybe_ ,” Kokichi presses, “maybe _you_ just have a _crush_ on me!”

Momota leads with a loud, “Maybe I do—!” before his words catch and die in his throat.

Momota looks like he’s been slapped. Kokichi _feels_ like he’s been slapped. It’s the expected payoff, really—it’s the exact stupid trick he’d planned for Momota to fall into—but it doesn’t stop Kokichi from flushing and breaking into hysterics, just as Momota drops his head into his book with a groan.

” _You_ ,” Momota grits out, “are _so_ fucking—“

”Nishishi! Ohhh, Mo- _mo_ -ta-chan!” Kokichi giggles, full-bodily, and then, with a note of alarm, finds that it’s hard to stop. Momota tilts his head down even further. “Y-Y-You’re really—! You’re—f-funny! Y-You h-h-have a—! Nishishi, I—I knew—!”

Kokichi’s words break off into breathy laughing, and it devolves even further to near-panting as he finally finishes his sentence with, “—it.”

Momota stares at him over the top of the pages, concern now evident in his eyes. Kokichi beams back, still breathing hard, then rearranges himself again to lean forward on his elbows.

He hopes it’s cute. It’s definitely cute. He’s probably sweating.

Momota lowers his book the slightest bit. His face looks warm, too. “Are you fucking okay?” he asks.

Kokichi snaps and fumbles out a finger-gun at him. “N-Never been better!” he assures. And then he winks, for some reason. God, what the hell? He has to stop doing this shit.

Momota doesn’t seem totally convinced by his little display, but he eventually shakes his head, blinks, and pulls the book back close to his face. Kokichi quickly looks the other direction, just to be away from him.

For a couple minutes, they lapse back into their prior silence. It’s not...uncomfortable, necessarily, but Kokichi can’t refrain from subtly glancing over at Momota every few seconds. Just to—read his mood, because, well, they argued again, and... He still just... Looks, a certain way...

Momota’s gaze meets his when Kokichi peers over at him, and they both quickly avert their eyes. Kokichi starts coughing violently, because he’s sure it’ll, uh, help clear the air, and Momota shifts visibly on his bench. After a moment, he takes a deep breath.

”You know,” Momota starts, sounding both vexed and self-conscious. Kokichi turns to him, probably appearing the same. “I don’t _actually_ like you, dude. You’re—a complete fuckin’ menace, no matter _what_ you say.” He scratches his head. “Or, uh, get me to say.”

Kokichi blinks at him, wide-eyed.

Momota’s face heats up again. “Or, whatever!” he adds, angry. “But it’s not like I hate you or some shit either, you know? But—just—okay, look, I— _God_ , just forget I fucking said anything, alright? I didn’t mean...”

Kokichi feels his heart skip some beats, and then his lips twist back up into his classic, awful smile. Momota stares pointedly at his book.

”It’s okay, Momota-chan,” Kokichi says. “I-I’ve actually been thinking this whole time about how...odd you look, and about how much _I_ hate _you_ , so it’s totally okay if you—“

Momota kicks him under the table. Kokichi kicks him back. It turns into another short altercation, but this time, when Momota swings his leg to Kokichi’s side, Kokichi catches his foot between his ankles and holds it there.

Momota stares harder into his book, and Kokichi stares harder at him; for a second, it looks like the corner of his own mouth is twisting up as well, a mirror of Kokichi’s own resting expression. After three or four seconds, it becomes clear he’s not going to pull away.

Kokichi’s heart proceeds to skip even _more_ beats at that.

”You’re an asshole,” Momota says, but there’s no real heat in his words. In fact, he almost sounds...amused, maybe.

Kokichi swings their feet, very, very lightly. He clears his throat to reply. “You should tell me more about open star clusters.”

Momota finally looks up from his book, and—yeah, he is smiling, Kokichi realizes.

His smile might even be on par with his study-face. Though, it’s hard to tell, because Kokichi is sure Momota looks—alright, _fine_ , he looks _attractive, that’s_ what makes him different, okay?—with most of his expressions.

Momota rests his free foot against the outside of Kokichi’s ankle, and they quickly have a vague pattern woven together of purple-white-purple-white, just underneath their table. Kokichi hardly even cares that Momota’s contribution is from some stupid, dumbass slippers.

Momota folds the covers of his book together and sets it between them.

”If you’re _actually_ curious,” he says, “then I can seriously talk about them.”

Kokichi nods his head. “Oh, yeah,” he says, “I’m _super_ curious as to what Momota-chan has to say about them, you know? Talk away—I’ll _totally_ listen. To the content, and not just your voice.”

Momota grins at Kokichi. Kokichi grins back. They swing their feet again, just the smallest bit.

”Alright, well...” Momota shrugs. He seems to consider his words for a second. “I think open star clusters are really, really...uh,” he stifles a laugh, “ _unique_ might be the right damn word...”

**Author's Note:**

> i guess this is the result of missing writing stupid jokes too much, haha. thanks for reading!


End file.
